


She Is The Sunlight

by tanyaslogic



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Kidnapping, Memory Loss, olicity au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:43:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3859159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyaslogic/pseuds/tanyaslogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olicity AU - Three years after Felicity is kidnapped, Oliver attempts to move on with his life.  Jane Doe has no memory of her life before 2012.  Her dreams consist of struggles for breath, panic, and eyes the color of the ocean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics are from She Is The Sunlight by Trading Yesterday

_And it will take this life of regret_  
For my heart to learn to forget  
Tomorrow will be as it always has been  
And I will fall to her again  
For I know I have come too close 

_Cause if right is leaving_  
I'd rather be wrong  
Cause she is the sunlight  
And the sun is gone 

Standing, he looked out of the tall office window. It had been three years since he’d been in the city. The city where he had met and fallen in love with her. The city they had loved and protected together. Him, with his bow and hood and her with her intelligence and steadfast love for him. Three years since she had been taken from him. 

They said that kidnappers usually call within 24 hours. That the motive had to be money. Why else would they kidnap a billionaire’s wife? But, the call never came. He had exhausted every effort to find her. Tracked down every lead. He had even enlisted the help of ARGUS, to no avail. She had vanished. She was simply _gone_ , they said. As swiftly as she had come into his life, she went out of it. 

Sometimes, he thinks he can still hear her. Her sweet giggles as his hands trace patterns over her bare back. The way she would whisper his name against his lips when he kissed her … _”Oliver.”_

He turned at the soft knock at the door. “Come in,” he said. 

A middle aged woman with dark hair and a soft smile walked into his office holding a small stack of file folders. “Good morning, Mr. Queen. My name is Agnes Gonzales. I work for Starling City Angels. We’re a non profit focusing mostly on troubled, homeless youth and domestic violence survivors in the city. We also occasionally help others in need on a case by case basis. I heard that you were looking into expanding your philanthropic activities, so here I am, dropping off a few of our files for you to review.” 

“Thank you, Ms. Gonzales. I’d be happy to look over what you have. Please leave your card with my assistant and we will be in touch.” He offers his hand, which she takes with a smile. 

“Thank you, Mr. Queen,” she replies, heading for the door. 

He thumbs through the files and stops at one labeled in large red letters, DOE, JANE. He pulls it from the stack, taking it back to his desk. He starts to open the file when the intercom buzzes. 

“Your board meeting is in 5 minutes, Mr. Queen,” his assistant’s voice is firm, letting him know that it would not be a good idea to be late considering he had not personally attended a meeting in three years. 

“Thank you, Janet,” he says getting up from the chair. Jane Doe would have to wait. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) I really appreciate all of your feedback on this. Reviews, kuddos and comments are like mana from the heavens and feed my muse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - Trigger warning on light description of violence (attack) and a change in the rating.
> 
> Again the lyrics are from She Is The Sunlight by Trading Yesterday

_If all the flowers faded away_  
_And if all the storm clouds decided to stay_  
_Then you would find me_  
_Each hour the same_  
_She is tomorrow_  
_And I am today_  
_If right is leaving_  
_I'd rather be wrong_  
_She is sunlight  
_   _The sun is gone_

* * *

Her first memory is of waking up in Metropolis General to the sound of beeping machines and the nurses prying hands. They told her not to speak, that her esophagus had been crushed. She had been found in the harbor, beaten severely and barely clinging to life. A local reporter with the Daily Planet had found her while researching a story. They said she had a strong will to live, that her heart had stopped twice, but she had come back each time. They asked her to write down her name and the phone number of her emergency contact. Panic set in when she found that she just _didn’t know_. They told her not to give up. That she was a survivor and that to have survived such a trauma surely meant that she had a greater purpose.

She spent the next three months in the hospital recovering from her injuries. The doctors told her the memories may come back or they may not. She endured three reconstructive surgeries on her face to repair the damage the monsters had done to her. The plastic surgeon told her not to worry and assured her that she would look better than ever. The next eighteen months were spent in a rehabilitation center trying to get her mind to open up. Sometimes she had flashes of her previous life. She sees herself sitting in a cafe, blonde with a ponytail, smiling at someone. She can feel rough calloused hands gently massaging the tension away in her shoulders and soft lips pressed against her forehead, but mostly she sees his eyes, deep haunted blue eyes that stared straight into her soul and left her yearning for more. The nightmares came as well. Large, dirty fingers wrapped around her neck, squeezing; a gravelly voice yelling intelligible words as his fists strike her over and over and over. _He’ll come for me, she thinks. He always comes for me. He always finds me … “Hey, I’m here. You’re safe …”_

* * *

The first time she picks up a paint brush she paints those eyes. She hangs the painting opposite her bed so that she sees them every morning when she wakes up. They’re comforting somehow and waking up to them makes her feel safe. They tell her she has talent, that it’s something she should pursue; that it could help her to focus on something other than her memory loss. They call her Jane. It doesn’t feel right, but she accepts it. 

Three years after her accident she moves to Starling City, where a non profit has agreed to help her. They set her up in a small studio, weekly visits to a psychiatrist specializing in memory loss and art classes at SCU. She waitresses at a local diner to help with living expenses.

They tell her that her benefactor’s name is Oliver Queen and that she is very lucky that he’s chosen to help her. She googles him one day at the library. Headlines include _“Oliver Queen Found Alive Five Years After Queen’s Gambit Sinking”, “Billionaire’s wife, Felicity Queen, Missing”, “The Prodigal Son Returns to Starling City”_ Wow, this guy’s life was even more dramatic than hers. She feels a strange sadness sweep over her before she glances at a few of the images of him; tall, muscular build, dark blonde hair, a bit of stubble and a smile that could launch a thousand ships. She shakes her head at her own silliness … _get a hold of yourself Jane …_ before closing out the search. She really should thank him though. After all, she wouldn’t be where she is now without him.

She stares out at the skyline of the city, smile on her face and paintbrush in her hand. She loves coming up to the roof of her building to paint. She’s decided to paint something for him, to show her appreciation. The skyline would be a nice piece. It takes her three days to finish, paint on her face and in her hair, but she’s happy with the end result. The colors are vibrant, almost as vibrant as this city she’s come to love, _almost as vibrant as the blue eyes that haunt her dreams._

* * *

“Do you still dream about him?” Dr. Leshner asks, her eyebrow raised in question while jotting down notes.

Jane shifts in her seat and nods. She dreams about him nearly every night. Dreams so vivid and real that she never wants to wake up. She thinks she can live forever in those dreams, wrapped in his arms, feeling safe and at home. 

_His lips pepper light wet kisses along her collarbone as his fingers ghost up her sides. She moves into his touch, her legs opening to allow him closer, her inner thighs resting on his hips. Her name falls from his lips, but she can’t hear it. Her hands travel over his back and she can feel his scars, angry and jagged. There are so many … why? Her fingers trace the ridges and curves of them and he moans into her mouth._

_“I love you,” he whispers and she thinks that her heart, body, and the whole damn universe may explode from all that she is feeling._

“Can you see his face?” she asks.

Jane shakes her head, a sob catching at the back of her throat. She doesn’t know if you can love someone you can’t remember, but her heart tells her … _you can._

* * *

She frames the painting in a vintage gold foil frame, wraps it in brown paper and attaches the envelope with her note to the front as she heads toward the door. She stops to check herself in the mirror before leaving. Her autumn hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun secured with a pencil. A few curls have escaped framing her small face. Her lips are a bright shade of red because nothing makes her feel prettier than red lipstick. There are light freckles across her nose from a recent sunning session at the beach. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and realizes that she actually feels nervous. _It’s not like you’re going to meet him, Jane. Just drop off the painting and head to class._

The bus drops her off directly in front of Queen, Inc. The building is huge, at least fifty stories. She stares in awe; her head tilting back and her jaw dropping. _Billionaires and their buildings,_ she thinks giggling to herself. She checks in on the first floor.

“Your badge, Miss or do you have an appointment?” The guard looks at her sternly.

She smiles at him. “I have neither, Sir. I’m just here to drop off a package for Mr. Queen.”

“What company are you from?” he says, taking out a black wand and scanning it over the package.

“I’m not from any company. The package if of a more personal nature.” She tries not to look nervous in front of him and her brow furrows slightly. “Look, it’s not a bomb, okay? It’s just a painting.”

He gives her a once over and after deeming that she posed no harm, pulled the package behind the counter. “I’ll see that he gets it, Miss. Have a nice day.”

“Thank you,” she replies, turning on her heel and letting out a sigh of relief upon exiting the building. She looks down at her phone and sees that she has less than five minutes to catch the 130 bus to SCU. She breaks into a run when she sees the bus pulling into the stop. She bumps into a stranger mid run, hearing him grunt and sending the papers in his hand flying all around him. 

“I’m sorry,” she yells over her shoulder. “I’m really really sorry, but I can’t stop …gonna miss the bus. I’m sorry.” She bounds onto the bus, scanning her transit card on the register.  
She plops down on the seat with a huff and looks out the window at the poor man she had just run over. He is bent over and picking up the last of his documents. His body shifts and his head turns, glancing over his shoulder at the bus. Her eyes widen in shock. She had seen that face. The dark, blonde hair, the chiseled jaw with a slight bit of stubble. _Oliver Queen._ She ducked down into her seat, trying to conceal herself from the window, praying to all of the gods that he doesn’t see her.

* * *

The heels of his shoes clap against the metal stairs of the Foundry; _the Arrow Cave_ , she had called it and he smiles at the memory. The air is stagnant and large stream of light flows into the room from the window above. A layer of dust covered everything in the building. Her computers, the servers, the glass cases holding his arrows and his leathers. He closes his eyes and he can see them. Dig and Roy sparring on the matts, Felicity clicking away at her keyboard, him on the salmon ladder. _“I liked watching you do that …”_

They had a routine. She would put the mask on him before every mission, place a chaste kiss on his lips, take his head in her hands, look directly into his eyes and whisper, “Come back to me.” and he did. There was nothing that could keep him from that, from coming home to her. 

His thumb rubs against the gold band on his left hand. He has never taken it off. Not once since she’d put it on him and he doesn’t think he ever will. It was a promise, A promise he had made to her; a promise they had made together.

The first year was frantic. Searching, a never ending circle of searching. He was never in one place for very long. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like the world was closing in on him. The second year, he retreated. To his childhood summer home in the mountains. Closing himself off to every one and everything. It was Diggle who found him, haggard and half alive. 

“She wouldn’t want this, Oliver. You need to get up and move on. You need to live.” John had held him that night as sobs racked his body. They came regularly after that. Dig, Lyla and Sara, spending weekends bringing him back to life. Thea and Roy, too, but he lives for the night. The night, when he can close his eyes and be with her again. Where he can feel her soft skin against his rough palms. Where he can feel her pulse race as he kisses that spot on her neck, just above her collarbone. Where he can see her sitting in their bed, her brow furrowed in concentration as she paints her toenails. Where he can hear her breath and feel her body arching into his as he makes love to her.

Slowly, he learned to smile again, getting caught up on the goings on at Queen Inc and taking an interest in several different charities in Starling City. His phone buzzed, bringing him back to the present and letting him know it was time to head back. He takes a final look around the room and lets his fingers slide across her keyboard.

* * *

He knocks briefly before going in. “Thea?” 

“I’ll be down in a sec, Ollie,” she shouts from the bedroom.

The loft hasn’t changed much. Thea had always had a keen sense for design. It’s furnished with pieces that aren’t too elegant to make it not feel homey. Picture collages and beautifully framed art decorate her walls. He glances at some of the pictures. A picture of him and Felicity dancing at their wedding, foreheads pressed together; Felicity, Thea and Lyla at the beach, their arms thrown over each other’s shoulders and tongues sticking out at the camera; he and Roy with Felicity and Thea on their backs, the girls hands joined together in the air; smiles plastered on all of their faces.

“Hey, you,” she says smiling. He turns surprised, not realizing that she had come into the room. He gives her is best Ollie smile and she takes his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s get some lunch.”

* * *

He sees her before he can react. A whirlwind of red hair, red lips, and long legs. Before he knows it, she slams into him sending his file of documents into the air. “Omph,” he huffs before quickly bending down to pick up his papers before they blew away. He looks up to ask if she’s okay, but she’s already gone. He hears her yell an apology behind him and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, sending a strange tingling sensation throughout his body. He shivers as he turns his head in time to see to the bus pulling away from the stop.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up. The muse is being very fickle as of late. I don't have an update schedule on this fic and will be posting as I go. Thank you so much for your kudos, feedback and comments on this story, it makes my heart sing. Also,upping the rating on this one :)

_If loving her is heartache for me_  
_And if holding her means that I have to bleed_  
_Then I am the martyr and love is to blame_  
_She is the healing and I am the pain_  
_She lives in a daydream where I don't belong_  
_She is the sunlight and the sun is gone_

* * *

It used to happen all the time. Hearing her voice and seeing her face in strangers. The first time it happened, he had grabbed the woman and had very nearly gotten a kick in the groin. His skin was buzzing and his heart beating out of his chest. His breath came in short, shallow bursts as he tried to calm his racing heart. He had hardly gotten a look at her, speeding past him with barely a pause, but her voice … her voice was Felicity. There’s a slight tremble in his hands and he shakes his head to clear this thoughts. _Get yourself together, Queen._  


A knock at his office door greets him moments after he walks in. “Yes?”  


Janet greets him with a smile, “Good morning, Mr. Queen. Here’s your morning mail and a package that was delivered for you. You have a light schedule today. Two appointments this morning, lunch with Mr. Diggle and your evening is free.”  


“Good morning, Janet. Thank you.”  


He turns his attention to the rather large package wrapped in brown paper. There’s an envelope taped to the outside, which he removes and sets aside. The paper comes off easily revealing a very pretty painting of the Starling City Skyline, the sun rising over the skyline actually, basking the city in a warm glow. It’s quite breathtaking. He sets the painting aside and opens the note.

_Dear Mr. Queen,_

_Hello, my name is Jane and I’ve been told that you’re the reason I’m in this beautiful city. Saying thank you just doesn’t seem like it’s enough. So please, accept this as my personal token of appreciation. It’s not much, but it’s from the heart, which is what matters, right? I hope it reminds you that your generosity was a ray of light during a very dark time._

_Yours thankfully,  
Jane Doe._

He smiles at the note, recalling her file. Woman found near death in Metropolis Harbor, memory loss with a penchant for art. There weren’t many details, no pictures or charts, but he felt drawn to her somehow. He knew what it was like to be lost and how desperate you can be to find a lifeline, someone who knows you, someone who cares.

* * *

He waves when he sees Diggle sitting at a small outside table at Big Belly Burger. Dig smiles in return, standing up to greet him with a hug.

“Hey, how are you doing? Adjusting well to being back in the city?” Dig asks concerned.

“Yeah,” Oliver says, taking a seat at the small table. “Things are good. How’s Lyla and Sara?”

“They’re wonderful. Sara’s growing up so fast. She misses her uncle though. You should come by for dinner soon so she can see you.”

Oliver smiles at the thought of his little Diglet, her shy smile and her plump little hands grabbing at the presents he bought for her… 

_“Hi Uncle Ollie, I missed you. I love you. What cha get me?”_  


After he left the city, Dig and Lyla had started their own security firm, making it one of the most sought after security details in the country. He was really glad to see them doing well and so happy. They order their meal and reminisce casually of their days in the field together.

“Do you ever think of picking it back up? The suit, I mean?” Dig asks.

Oliver shakes his head slowly. “I don’t know how to do it without her, John.”

* * *

He hangs the painting in the bedroom, opposite the bed. The light from the sunset streams through the window, hitting it and making the colors dance. He sits on the edge of the bed, pulling a worn leather journal and pen out from the nightstand. He opens to a blank page letting his thoughts flow to paper.

_Felicity,_

_I thought I saw you today. It’s been a while since that’s happened. It’s strange being back in the city without you. Your hairbrush is still on the bathroom counter and your perfume still on the dresser. Sometimes, I wake up still expecting to hear your soft little snore and your sweet laugh as you press your cold feet into my thighs. God, I miss you. Where are you, love? Why can’t I find you?_

The familiar tightening in his chest causes his breath to hitch and a small sob escapes the back of his throat. He closes his eyes wishing for a sleep that he knows won’t come. His mind will not quiet, all he can see is her. Sitting in their bed, her shoulder hanging out of one of his t shirts, hair piled on her head while chewing on a pen with her lap top on a pillow and papers strewn everywhere. Her, barefoot on her tiptoes reaching for a mug in their kitchen. Her, lying with him; limbs tangled, tracing her fingers along his tattoos and scars. She wanted to hear the story behind each and every one, sealing each story with a kiss on the mark. He longs for more; more moments. He longs for the peace he felt in her arms.

* * *

She’s not sure why, but her heart is racing, her skin tingling, and blood rushes through her ears. The feeling can only be described … _thrilling_. When she’s sure the bus has passed, she tries to look back to see if she can still see him. She cannot, but notices that she’s holding her breath. She lets it out swiftly and laughs at insanity of the pull that she is feeling towards him; a pull that is making her want to get off the bus this instant and run straight back to him. 

_“What is wrong with you, Jane? Stop it right now,”_ she thinks to herself. She vaguely remembers reading that he was married, but there was something else; something about her being missing. She’d only glanced at the headline and hadn’t read the article. She didn’t recall seeing a picture of her, but then again she’d only looked at the first picture that had popped up of him. She shakes her head and grabs her bag as the bus pulls into SCU, trying to force the image of Oliver Queen from her mind.

* * *

She’s doesn't how it happened. One minute she’s holding her friend Kate’s hand while she’s getting a butterfly tattoo and the next she’s in the chair herself, grimacing as the needle stabs into the soft flesh of her ribcage under her left breast.

“Haven’t done one of these in a while,” the artist said. “Not since the Green Arrow disappeared. People were getting arrow tattoos left and right before then,” he laughs.

She stands before a mirror looking at the finished work, smiling softly at the small delicate design. She doesn’t know what compelled her to do it, but loves the result. It’s comforting somehow, this arrow pointing towards her heart.

* * *

_Her body arches into his as he feasts on her neck. A soft moan escapes her lips at the friction caused by her nipples grazing his bare chest. She lifts her hips to his, silently begging him to close the space. He rubs himself against her core and they both gasp into each other’s lips, their breath mingling before he pulls her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking gently. Her tongue traces the edges of his upper lip before finding his and getting lost in the sensation. His fingers interlock with hers as he brings her arms above her head. He enters her slowly and holds there for a moment, his eyes locked onto hers. Her feet skirt up his thighs and her heels dig into his ass trying to somehow push him deeper into her._

_“Please,” she whispers._

_He moves then, setting a slow and steady rhythm, his tongue trailing along her breast before taking her nipple into his mouth._

_Her breath hitches and he moans into her skin. He begins to move faster and she can feel the tension in her building. He whispers word of love into her neck as her fingers card through his short hair._

_“Come for me,” he breathes._

_And she does, the waves of her climax hit her and she trembles beneath him. A few more thrusts and he follows her, collapsing against her before he rolls on his back taking her with him. Her body is pulled into him and she traces the outline of his face with her fingers willing him to come into focus._

_She loves him, this man whose face she can’t see. She loves him so much that she wishes she could just stay here always. Live in this dream forever with him._

_“I love you,” she breathes pressing her lips to his chest._

_She can feel him look down at her as his fingers trace soft patterns on her back._

_“I love you too, Felicity.”_

_Her eyes snap to his when she hears the name. She pushes back on her elbows and gasps. She can see the confusion in his eyes, the square of his jaw and the light stubble across it. She can see the gentle slant of his nose and the curve of his lips. For the first time in three years, she can see him … and she knows his face._

* * *

She wakes with a start, gasping for breath and her hands reaching for him. Tears cloud her vision and her heart is racing. _His face_ … Oliver Queen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) I will try and update as soon as I can. I really appreciate your feedback, kuddos and comments. They feed my soul and inspire my muse


End file.
